Merrily We Go To Hell
by Shuvcat
Summary: The sequel to Courting Disaster. On Graduation Day, the Mayor, Faith, and Edna Mae are dead. A guilt-ridden Buffy makes a choice that will open a whole new can o' worms...


"Merrily We Go To Hell" by Melanie Alford (Shuvcat) (c) 1999

## Merrily We Go To Hell

### by Shuvcat (c) 1999

##### A sequel to Courting Disaster. I wrote this a while back and was never happy with it, but it's as good as it's getting, I suppose. Spins off from the morning of Graduation Day and contains no spoilers for season 4, since I didn't watch it. :)   
_ Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ and all characters, names, ect, belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, Fox and the WB. No copyright infringement is intended by this work of fiction.

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__"...I had a dream last night  
That you came into my arms and I held you so tight  
The sky went black and there were screams  
I watched a thousand babies burn  
how can I get myself, get myself clean......"_   
SUNNYDALE, CALIFORNIA  
MAY 25, 1999  
5:41 A.M. The sky was lightening palely in the east, the stars fading from the black arc of heaven. The streets of Sunnydale were deserted, devoid of human life anyway; a few vampires still skulked about but even they were skittering for their daytime lairs, as if even they were nervous. This dawn smelled different. This day would be different. Something Terrible was going to happen. Dread. It was as thick and heavy as a fog, even though the sun promised to blaze this day. It was perhaps what the residents of Hiroshima had felt the morning the bomb was dropped. It was so pervasive that even the few foolish joggers who dared venture out in the pre-dawn hours were thinking better of it, staying home. Indeed, nearly no one was out on the street, so nobody saw the white, raggedy, spindly-limbed figure skipping down the pretty paved walk. She -- for it was a woman -- bounced along happily, oblivious to the doom in the air. She had confidence and sheer joy on her side, and she walked the streets without fear. Had anyone been present to look they would have noticed how dangerously thin she was, how her dress -- a lovely floral pattern long ago, now threadbare and rotting -- flattened against her impossibly narrow body. She was downright skeletal. Her face, had anyone gotten close enough to see, was white as dough and about the same texture; her lips had lost their youthful pinkness and were as purple as frozen berries. She looked like she'd been dead for about a hundred years. For all that this black, spindly character skipped nimbly down the street, almost girlishly; swinging her moldering parasol and humming "Happy Days Are Here Again" as she toured the town in the brightening hours. Occasionally she was slowed and sometimes brought to a dead stop by the outlandish sights -- cars, neon signs, anything plastic. A lot had changed since she'd last walked these streets. Onward she skipped, enjoying the brilliant green of the trees, the songs of the birds. Even in the face of imminent doom, spring remained constant no matter what century it was. Suddenly, she stopped dead. She stood immobile on the street corner, staring for a while at the huge building she'd arrived at quite without realizing it, staring over the street at the sign carved in stone: SUNNYDALE GENERAL HOSPITAL. The apparition's white nose raised. A delectable smell was in the air -- cold and electric, like the umpteenth snowfall in a despairing February, like lemon ice cream. It was fear. A shuddery noise came from the ghost as she stared up at one particular square, one of many in the side of the building. The noise quickly grew into a loud, hateful sound like rubber spurting on cement. The woman was laughing. She knew who was up in that hospital room. The Slayer. Her husband's beloved girl. A horrid grin tore across the apparition's face, thrilling. Her husband was up there, too. That was where the fear radiated from. Today was the day. _His_ day. If the ghostly woman had had any doubts they were erased; she knew it was so simply because she was here. She had never been able to come back to this town and walk the streets like she had just now. She had never been able to appear to people and make herself seen and heard, as she had to Faith some weeks ago. She had never been able to move things. With a sudden burst of malicious glee she swung her rotting parasol out at a nearby trashcan. The metal rang with a loud satisfying clatter, and the can toppled over on the walk, spilling garbage all over. That made the ghost laugh even harder. _He_ hated messes. She had, too, but that was when she was alive. A little dirt didn't mean much when one was six feet deep in it. The ghost's raggedy shoulders shivered as emotions poured through her. Fury, bile, outrage.... followed by longing so warm that it startled her, as she recalled her husband's strange quirks. She had hovered in the dark despising him for nearly a century, but small memories like that still had the power to turn her bones to milk. She missed him. He had poisoned her soul, turned her body into a shrunken husk, and on top of that plotted to make her a vampire. He'd seen the ruin of her entire family and forced her to give up her son. There were countless other things she'd sacrificed in his name -- and yet time had erased most, if not all of her anger. She wanted her man. She missed him, as only a young wife can -- for she _had_ been a young wife, even at her death; she missed his devil's smile, his dark tenderness. She relished the memory of their last conversation which had taken place, not at the turn of the century, but less than five hours ago. They had spoken together, they had touched each other, his horror radiating through her as she embraced him. She'd tried to make him understand. It was all for him, Faith's dying. He might have even had her sacrifice their own child, all those years ago. Why shouldn't she sacrifice their girl now? It wasn't like she hadn't tried to give Faith a choice. She had appeared before that child, told her their life story, tried to show Faith what her boss was really like. It had ended with her asking -- frankly pleading -- Faith to turn against the Mayor, to send him into the cold, black hell where _she_ was, to bring them together, like it always should have been. But Faith, dear, stupid, stubborn girl, wouldn't hear of it. So that was that, then. Faith was going to be the instrument of the ghost's wrath one way or another. _He_ could still hear her anyway; as a result of their joining, even if it was just as a whisper. During the past century she'd grown adept at putting ideas in his head, making him think he'd come up with them himself. _ Behind every great man is a great woman._ Nothing major, nothing that would turn him from his destiny. She had suggested to him the idea for the poison, the Killer Of The Dead, for which there was only one cure. Edna Mae didn't quite know who the blonde little girl and the dark, handsome boy were that troubled the Mayor so, and she didn't much care. They were important to him, they were important to Faith. Getting them out of the way was important. Edna saw her opportunity, and she took it. Angel, the boy, was shot down. Buffy, the Slayer, came after Faith, as predicted. There had been some worry there -- for a while it looked like Faith might prevail -- but it was a worry that evaporated as soon as the girl's bleeding body hit that truck. And so it was that Edna Mae Wilkins found herself on this modern street on this cool spring morning, back in the universe she once called home. This was her husband's town, and today was the Ascension -- her husband's day. He had been planning this for decades. Literally. Edna could remember when he'd started writing the speech. Good Lord -- she even missed being the soundboard for his fearfully dull speeches...... Today he planned to shed his human form and become something all-powerful. So he planned. He didn't realize today he was going to die. Those were _her_ plans; that was why poor little Faith had to die. Edna Mae stood, reflecting on Faith. Their girl, unmistakably. Her grace and cold calmness; his charm and killer's instinct. They had created a thing of beauty, give or take a few generations. A daughter to be proud of. Deep down, inside her shell of mold and rot, some tiny part of Edna was shocked she didn't feel worse about killing the girl. Decades of standing pat in the netherrealm had a way of changing one. She reckoned she'd gone mad several dozen times by now; death caused her to view worldly matters far differently than the shy choirgirl from the good Boston family could have, or would have cared to. That girl was long dead, eroded away like a clay figure. In her place was something ancient, cold... and absolutely unrepentant about her own kin laying so near death in that room yonder. All that burned in Edna Mae now was a faint reminder, a memory of warmth and kindness and love that was like a light at the end of a tunnel, that was so close now that nothing else mattered. For him she would sacrifice anything. Including Faith. Sad as it was, from what Edna Mae had been able to glimpse of the Slayer's aura it was hardly unkind. Faith herself didn't seem to view her young, brief, violent life as anything to be clung to. As far as Edna saw, she was doing the poor girl a favor. So Faith had to die. Stubborn to the end, Faith actually wasn't dead -- but she was close enough. It would be enough to distract _him._ Hobbled by human emotion, he wouldn't be able to ascend properly. He would make a mistake. And it would be his doom. By nightfall, she reflected, they would be together, sleeping in the same grave, Edie and Dickie, like it used to be. On the sidewalk, the ghost fairly quivered. The only thing she hadn't counted on was being this solid, though she guessed it made sense. On this day of Ascension, _he_ was more powerful than he had ever been, and since their souls were forever shackled together, her power was also at its peak. She was as close to flesh and blood alive that a ghost could possibly be. She was rather going to miss it. Sights, sounds, smells, all assaulted her with a vengeance. It was on a spring day like this...... But Edna shook that thought away. No down thoughts, as _he_ would have said. The deal was done, she had delivered him unto his enemies, and the other Slayer, Buffy -- she would do what Faith had refused. The only concern Edna Mae had now was being there. She wanted to welcome him into her black oblivion; she wanted to be there when he crashed and burned. She was going to be there laughing. With a final awful smile at the hospital window, Edna Mae flung her broken, ancient parasol over her shoulder and turned and skipped down the street, humming joyfully. Another hour found her blocks away, near where the livery used to be. She could pick out bits of the old Sunnydale -- Lord, where had he come up with that name -- beneath the newer, bizarre evolution of the town. There was where the Esper house used to stand. Looked like it had burned down. There was the old carriage house, and there was-- Edna Mae stopped so short she almost toppled over. She stared. It was the park. Their park. "They've paved it," she uttered icily. A stone monstrosity of a building loomed where the old park used to stand. The grandstand, the gazebo, the walks, all were gone, and this _thing_ remained. Like the hospital, it had a sign carved in stone: SUNNYDALE HIGH SCHOOL. She looked to the north end -- the gruesomely screaming statue was gone. In its place were rows and rows of chairs, and a stage over which fluttered a crimson and gold banner: _Congratulations Class of 1999_ it blared. Her immediate dismay was eclipsed by understanding. _It's the same place, no less,_ she told herself. _This is where we first met._ The platform where she and her family had watched as that long-ago demon took its due out of the good people of Boca del Infierno had its equal in the platform where the banner now waved. Except this time it would be a different demon feasting on the populace. He was a stickler for tradition, she had to give him that. She walked wobblingly on her brittle legs around to the side of the building, which was still cast in pre-dawn blackness. In the shadows, eyes that were used to watching for prey, for sheep that didn't know enough to stay away from dark places in Sunnydale, watched the raggedy figure that walked too fast for the rickety limbs it was on. It waited, waited as Edna Mae walked right toward it, closer...closer.... She was looking at the field. Looking at the trees, trying to pick out one. She didn't realize she was being watched, preoccupied with where the best seat in the house was. Something hard hit her in her rotted breasts. Her train of thought derailed as Edna Mae, not used to her earth feet, tipped over. She went down like a boxing dummy, falling down... Falling.... ....oh God, falling... _The world speeding past, tumbling in a mess of green and blue and sunset red. Tumbling over and over, out of control, not in a straight line like she'd thought, and the terror of what she'd done roaring toward her like a train, it had seemed like such a perfect idea but it was really no solution at all, she could see that now and it was too late and it wasn't her time yet, she didn't want to die--_ An explosion of red, violent pain at the base of her skull, like a watermelon being jackhammered. A thousand fiery steel nails driving into her brain. The sickening sensation of her head flattening.... The balcony had landed upside down. He stood there like an usher at the door of death, and then he and the balcony and the sky... all began to slowly swim away. She was sucked down; headfirst, backwards, down into the too-hot, sticky red lava pit.... ....and darkness. She opened her eyes, her brittle frame sprawled on the grass, hands trembling as if with palsy. Her neck creaked with the phantom of that long ago, harrowing, rage-red pain, no matter where she had turned her head she couldn't get away... that large red pool of pain _was_ her head. Edna Mae whimpered, the paralysis fading but the horror of her suicide -- her _murder,_ she insisted -- come back fresh in her mind like it was yesterday. Something -- no, someone -- had fallen on top of her, hollering. A boy. A large boy, grubbily dressed, and loud besides. He jumped up and towered over her, staggering as tore the purse off her -- the molded purse they'd buried her with, that she'd been carrying around without realizing it. He glared down at her. "What the crap is this?" he shouted. "Don't you know you old broads are supposed to be carrying money around for me?" He let out a hoarse laugh. Fury and indignity burned Edna Mae's dead cheeks. Her unexpected memories had shaken her hard, her voice was strained. "Are you going to help me up?" she snapped. The mugger sneered. She must be spacy on medication, thinking he was her grandson or something. "Grandma, this is a robbery," he jeered. "See, I get money, you get roughed up a little and spend a few days in a nice hospital on the cops' dime." He threw her dilapidated purse to the ground. "'Cept you're not putting out your end," he added threateningly. "Maybe I'll just take somethin' else out of you." The decrepit woman got creakily to her feet, her eyes glaring darkly from their shadowy rims, like the dirt-caked eyes of an ancient marble statue. A human. An ordinary street thug. Not a vampire, not a demon. This little... nothing... thought he was going to harm her. Thought he could keep her from the day's errands. "You're a horrendously rude young man," she said in a low, even snarl. "In my day, a boy helped a lady up when he'd knocked into her. In my day boys had more sense than to run the streets like wild monkeys." The large youth took a second to stare at the woman's waxy appearance, but chose not to be impressed. "In your day dinos roamed the earth," he cracked. "Screw this. You're not even hot." The woman's hair ruffled. It literally raised around her skull, black strands prickling. Her eyes burned. "Melt like a candle," she growled. The punk had been about to leave. He found he couldn't. He let out a holler as a fiery hot flash tore over his husky six foot frame. The commons was still mostly deserted, so no one witnessed the horrible sight as the punk twisted, shrieked, and turned red as a lobster. His skin blackened, as if shriveling in some unseen bonfire. Edna Mae worked the power her husband had granted her into a killer iron glare, watching as the mass that had once been human flesh and bone collapsed on the grass, bubbling and steaming, totally liquidized. And the commons fell silent. The hundred and sixteen year old wife of the Mayor shuddered, the use of so much power after so many years of lying dormant straining her. She tilted her head, cracking out the last of the pain, released a huffy sigh. A hundred years ago this would have shocked her. Now it meant nothing. "Am I hot enough for you now?" she softly asked the mess. She turned her cooling eyes away from the gruesome remains, over the former park, searching. She found a stunted orange tree and made for it, leaving the mess behind. She stopped at the trunk of the tree, searching for a good foothold. How long had it been since she'd climbed a tree? She had been the tomboy of her sisters, and had spent much of her childhood in the elms of Boston. Grabbing a branch, pausing to marvel at the rough sensation of bark under her fingers, she dug her rotted sole into the trunk and lifted herself up with startling ease. In seconds she'd clambered to the top of the little tree, and she picked a branch, one that had a leafless view of the seats, the stand, and the podium. She wanted to see it. Better, she wanted him to see her. Smiling contentedly to herself, she sat and waited. 

_"...you'd better hope and pray  
that you wake one day  
back in your own world..."_

There was music playing somewhere. The black swirled around her ears, wrapping her head in a warm, thick blanket. The universe tilted gently, back and forth, the planets spinning in slow motion. Kind of like the one time she'd been on a boat, feeling the world rock under her. She wasn't scared -- she didn't know fear, usually. Not that there was anything here to be scared of. She wondered why the thought of fear had come to her. Music faded in and out. Not good music, it was a tinny music box tweedle, warped and trembling like the box was broken. It would fade out, and then would come back, eerie and slower each time, like it was winding down. Faith hated music boxes for the very fact that when they were getting ready to quit they went slower, and slower...like a heart stopping. Like something dying. Normally the idea of something dying a slow, painful death turned her on. But for some weirdo reason, music boxes turned that dead, fading-out feeling inward, on herself. Not a feeling she wanted to experience. That was no way for a Slayer to go, she wasn't going out like that. Hard and fast, like she'd lived. A thousand miles an hour straight down and a quick, violent smash. Fireworks and brilliance. No way was she going to feel her life slip away while that creep Angel sucked it out of her... Somewhere a clock ticked. The ticking was spazzy, too, it sped up, then faded, than came back, speeding and slowing. The tapestry of noise was soft and soothing, like a lullaby, but the idea of sleep summoned that not-quite-fear back. She was afraid of what lay out there in the dark. Besides, she didn't have time to sleep. She had stuff to do. _Big day tomorrow._ But the music box twingled on, every note coming out of the thickening void like a star, touching her cheeks, numbing her. It was meant to be comforting, but Faith was anything but comforted. Something was nagging at her; she'd forgotten something important. She tried to focus on what it could be, but when she did the drowzy feeling intensified, like she was trying to contemplate a black hole. The deeper she stared into it, the more it wrapped around her head and tried to suck her down. _I'm dying._ The revelation should have been enough to shock her into wakefulness. It didn't, and that did scare her. The waking world didn't want her. Perhaps it couldn't take her. There was pressure like her head was wedged up against a board; for all her effort she couldn't bust through because whatever she'd left behind couldn't recieve her anymore. _It's simply too severe...._ _I don't wanna die,_ she answered Buffy. A comet left a trail of fire down her cheek like the track of a tear, brushing her hair back. The burning was nice compared to the cold creeping up on her. She wanted to hang onto that, to find Buffy and hang on to her, but the warmth was gone as quick as it came; the last warmth of the world vanishing in the dark. The hypnotizing music box plinks descended on her, burying her in the rocking, lullaby oblivion once again.   


_"...and now the kingdom comes  
Crashing down undone  
And I am master of a nothing place..." _

_SUNNYDALE HIGH SCHOOL  
3:15 P.M._ The banner flapped pathetically in the gentle breeze blowing over the school grounds, where the graduating class of 1999 was assembling. Two by two they filed into their seats, dressed in maroon robes -- all of them carefully hiding what they'd brought. This graduation would be no happy event. Everyone under the age of twenty had been briefed, knew the truth. Their speaker, the Mayor, planned to ascend into some kind of horrific demon, and all the students were to be his sacrifices. They had had only a few hours to plot a defense, but they were ready for him. This was war. In the front row Buffy Summers, the Slayer, cast a glance around the schoolyard. She was met by many eyes; nervous, wary, but all united. They had been recruited before the ceremony, and they were ready for anything. A few of them, walking in earlier, had seen the weird old lady hanging up in the tree near the edge of the field, but if they wondered who she was or what she was doing up there, they didn't do anything about it. They were here to survive. In her tree Edna Mae shifted on her branch, tossing away the peel of the too-tart orange she'd been eating. "High time," she murmured as the band brought Pomp and Circumstance to a close. The whispering crowd fell silent as a very grim-looking Principal Snyder approached the mike, glaring nervously at the crowd. "Congratulations to the class of 1999," he greeted tersely. "You all proved more or less adequate. This is a time of celebration, so sit still and be quiet." His glare narrowed on one particular student down in front. "Spit out that gum," he snapped. Apparently the kid did, Snyder returned his glare to the crowd. "Please welcome our distinguished guest speaker, Richard Wilkins the third." His glare again nailed a particular kid. "I saw that gesture, you see me after graduation," he admonished. He was visibly more uptight than usual; he must have been extremely nervous. It was a feeling shared by nearly everyone on the commons, even those who didn't know about the Mayor and what he planned. Dread choked the sunny field like swamp mist. Placated for now, Snyder led the crowd in a round of applause and abandoned the podium for the safety of his seat, as Mayor Wilkins rose from his chair and approached the podium. Polite, tense applause pattered over the school grounds. In her tree, Edna surrendered a curt, croquet-match clap. The Mayor took out his speech, neatly penned on twenty-seven 3X5 cards, and sat them on the podium. He surveyed the crowd, which had fallen unusually silent, waiting. It had all come down to this. Many a nervous young face was upturned to him. He cast them all a dark smile. "Well! What a day this is. A special day. Today is our centennial, the one-hundredth anniversary of the founding of Sunnydale, and I know what that means to you kids....not a darn thing." He beamed at them. "Because today something much more important happens. Today you all graduate from high school. Today all the pain, all the work, all the excitement.... it's finally over." He shrugged sarcastically. "What's a hundred years of history compared to that? But y'know what, kids....." Down in front, Buffy and Willow sat in horror. "My God," murmured Buffy, "he's gonna do the entire speech." Willow groaned. "Man, just _ascend_ already," she sighed. Buffy shook her head, stunned by the depth of the man's black heart. "Evil!" she agreed. In her tree, Edna watched intensely as the Mayor went on, her withered lips moving along. "....maybe you all have a place in Sunnydale's history whether you like it or not. It's been a long road getting here....for you, for Sunnydale. There's been achievement, joy, good times." His face suddenly clouded over. "And there's been grief," he continued slowly. "There's been loss. Some people who should be here today....aren't." Everyone thought the murderous gaze he cast into the crowd was meant for Buffy. The Slayer -- out of the hospital, alive and kicking while Faith lay broken and near-dead -- matched him with her own defiant glare. _Can't keep a good girl down,_ Wilkins mused bitterly. His gaze flickered up, over the crowd, into the small grove of trees beyond the field. Something like a small black imp was perched in one tree, her tattered threads moving in the wind. _Can't keep her down, indeed. _ The same white face that had gazed so sweetly through a lace frame on their wedding day, a face now shrunken and bony, broke into a gleeful black leer as his eyes met hers. And the Mayor leered right back. "But we are," he added ominously. "Journey's end. And what is a journey? Is it just distance traveled.....time spent? No. It's what happens on the way. It's the things that shape you. At the end of the journey, you're not the same. Today is about change. Graduation doesn't just mean your circumstances change, it means you do. You ascend.... to a higher level. And nothing will ever be the same. _Nothing."_ The wind picked up slightly, suddenly. A chill moved over the field as the assembly darkened. Edna Mae looked skyward, the wind chilling her bare bones. A few of the crowd looked up to see the sun going black in the sky as the moon blotted it out. Awed murmurs stirred in the crowd -- isn't that nice, an eclipse for the graduates. Only the graduates themselves knew that the sun wasn't the only thing planned to eclipse that day. The Mayor was paused in his speech, staring up at the sun as it went completely black. He suddenly doubled over as a crippling pain split his side. In the tree, Edna Mae perked. Down in front, Buffy and Willow sat forward. This was it. Snyder was giving Mayor Wilkins a strange look. The Mayor smiled gamely at the crowd, trying to go on. "....And so...as we look back --" He cringed as another fiery pain tore through him. Yards behind, Edna Mae was wide-eyed on the edge of her branch, mouth half open in anticipation. Several of the parents were noticing. The Mayor was trying desperately to continue and just wasn't making it. "We.....we must all --" and he was nearly brought to his knees by a jolt so violent that he uttered a scream. Everybody was noticing now. Murmurs ran through the parent-heavy part of the crowd. The graduates all sat tensed, waiting. The Mayor cast them all a horridly triumphant, sickly smile. "It has begun...my destiny..." he announced. A slightly dismayed frown crossed his face; he hadn't finished his speech. How rude, he thought dimly, glancing down at his notecards through the swimming red pain. "It's a little sooner then I expected -- I had this whole section on civic pride...." He looked back out at the crowd, cheering up at the growing looks of horror on their faces. "....but I guess we'll just skip to the big finish," he snarled his final earthly words. Before everyone's horrified eyes the Mayor started changing. His skin split and turned color; his suit tore to ribbons as his mutating body burst out of it. Principal Snyder stared, mouth agape, and the superintendent and all the other school officials leapt from their chairs and cleared the hell out of there as the thing that was once Mayor Wilkins towered over the podium, scaly, black, sixty feet tall and getting larger -- the embodiment of the demon Olvocan. The crowd rose to its feet, staring up in shock. In the back, the parents were the first to snap out of it and start running, clambering over seats and each other in their flight. The students were the only ones to stay, seemingly frozen in horror, as the demon snapped harmlessly at one of the fleeing officials, then raised its head to the dark heavens and uttered a earsplitting, triumphant roar. In her tree Edna Mae, drop-jawed while her husband ascended, uttered a delighted laugh and clapped her hands for joy, unable to help herself. And in the front row of the assembly, Buffy Summers shouted, _"NOW!!"_ FZASH. Edna Mae jumped as fire suddenly erupted over the campus. The children had come armed, toting weapons that hurled flames at everything. The fires licked up toward the demon, singing the scaly flesh. Roaring, the monster whipped its tail into the crowd, knocking a large hole in the attackers. Arrows flew through the air, some striking their mark, most bouncing harmlessly off the hard scales. Chaos reigned as the crowd fell over themselves fleeing the commons. Vampires had emerged from the sewers, unhindered by the sun; there was fighting and blood and dustings all around. Above all this the demon remained the major threat; it lurched down and snapped up one, then another unfortunate person. On the ground, poor Principal Snyder was looking around at the chaos. His expression was at first one of horror. Then it seemed to grow into something resembling disgust. Nobody pulled these kind of shenanigans at his school -- nobody! He glared up at the demon that had once been the Mayor. "This is not orderly," he snapped gutsily. "This is not disciplined! You're on _my_ campus, buddy!! And when I say I want quiet I mean--" He was cut off by the demon snapping toward him. In an instant the principal was gone, swallowed by the monster. _Crunch._ Students were still firing plumes of flame at the demon. In her tree, Edna Mae suddenly let out a cry of pain as a searing flash ripped over her frail body. She looked down, bewildered by the burning pain. Death had made her forget what pain felt like; she wondered what on earth could have caused it. She brought up her white arm, which was coated with hot, red blood, alive and running in rivulets from the charred gash in her flesh. Edna was mesmerized by this sight. It was the first time in years she'd seen her own spilt blood. She looked to the demon writhing above the assembly. A tongue of flame from one of the weapons slashed toward the creature, and Edna was again overcome by pain, nearly losing her balance. She gripped the tree limb with all her strength to keep from falling, looking to the crowd in dread. This wasn't supposed to happen. Buffy had stood up, staring up. She brought something from inside her robe. "Hey!!" she shouted up at the demon. The creature heard. He looked down at the tiny blonde girl, who was standing bravely before him like a sacrifice, waving something in her hand. It was a bizarre, ornate knife. Buffy nodded. "You remember this?" she called. "I took it from Faith. Stuck it right in her gut." She lingered over the words, twisting them. "Just slid in her like she was butter." The monstrous snake weaved, frozen. The tiny spark of humanity left in that huge frame burned. _He remembered._ Buffy cast a glare up at the demon. "You wanna get it back from me? Dick??" Oh, that was just too much. Like a shot the demon snapped toward her, plowing over the ground, turf flying. The girl was too quick though, and took off across the commons, legs pumping like mad, running toward the building. Edna Mae's black eyes followed as the demon crashed after the Slayer. For the first time, terror was gripping the ghost. "No," she whispered. Buffy sprinted through the door into the school. The entire wall exploded as the massive snake invaded the school. The Slayer ran, just barely keeping ahead of the creature's jaws, flinging doors open only seconds before he turned them to sawdust. She tore into the library, and a second later so did the demon, bulldozing the wall like it was made of legos. The creature stopped, blinking through the dust...... .....As Buffy hurled herself through the library window...... "God, no," moaned Edna. The demon took in the sight. The library was packed to the rafters with explosives. Fertilizer. Gunpowder, for cripes sake. Too late, he realized his mistake. This wasn't going to be fun. "Well, _gosh,"_ the demon semi-cursed. The room erupted in a wall of flames. The explosion blew out the walls, the windows, fire licking down the hallways. The demon roared in agony as its flesh vaporized in the inferno. In the basement, the ancient boiler system gave up and another thunderous explosion ripped through the school, shattering the stone sign, leveling the towers. Bits of green flesh rained down a block or so away. At the edge of the commons, the ghost of Edna Mae Wilkins uttered a horrible scream as fire tore over her skin and burned her, the orange tree and the grass around it to ash in a matter of seconds. On the other side of town, in a private hospital bed on the third floor, Faith's heart stopped. 

_"...Is it bright where you are  
And have the people changed  
Does it make you happy, you're so strange?..."_

The golden sun beamed down on the grassy green field. Blue flax flowers dotted the hills and the air was warm and sweet. She'd been walking so far. She waded through the tall grass toward a large white house, dressed in her best white dress... there were white flowers twined in her hair, in the thick dark ringlets bouncing around her shoulders -- and they were waiting for her. She didn't have the faintest idea who "they" were, just that they were waiting, and it was impossible to avoid them. But why would she want to avoid them? They were beautiful, wonderful people. Everything was beautiful and wonderful. She strode through the soft grass, making her way toward the beautifully tended Victorian garden that was now visible from her vantage point. As she broke somewhat awkwardly through the tall grass onto the brick patio, the guests all turned and looked at her. They too were in white garments; the men in white straw hats and suits fitting the ninteenth century, the women elegantly dressed for an outdoor garden party. As Edna Mae stared, the guests broke into wide, friendly smiles and began to clap, happy to see her. One of the white-dressed people emerged from the crowd, running to greet her. "Edie!!" "Sophie?!" Edna couldn't believe it. Her little sister embraced her joyfully, laughing. There were flowers in her soft golden curls, too. "You made it, Edie!" she exclaimed. "You made it after all! We've all been waiting for you!" Slowly, Edna Mae began to understand. She looked up at the rainbow colored sky, at the shining white house and the beautiful guests. "I'm in..." Her heart soared, she could scarcely believe it. "After everything I did....I still got to go to heaven?" Sophie was taking her hands, pulling her toward the house. "Mother and Papa are here too!" she laughed. "Papa can't wait to see you, especially! And little Corrine -- remember when Mother lost the baby? Corrine is here, and...." Edna Mae couldn't believe it. She was in heaven! She had sinned and destroyed and lied and been in bed with the devil himself -- but she was forgiven, everything was all right after all. An incredible joy bubbled in her breast like soda phosphate, and she laughed, too -- but couldn't help tugging back. "Sophie, where's Richard?" she asked the girl. Sophie stopped, abruptly. She turned slowly around, staring at her sister as though she'd grown another head. "Richard ...Wilkins?" Her young face looked confused. "Well, Edna... he's not here." The joyous bubble in Edna Mae's heart popped. Her smile faded. "He has to be," she said slowly. "Sophie, wait! What do you mean? Of course he--" She stopped, unable to tear her hand from Sophie's. It was impossible. If Edna, who had fallen so far out of grace, could make it here, surely Richard-- Sophie's blue eyes gazed at her, sympathetic and sorrowed. "Edna, he was evil," she said matter-of-factly. "Evil people don't get to come here." Edna didn't understand. "_I'm_ here!" she pointed out. Sophie looked unhappy. "Your hate kept your spirit prisoner," she explained. "On earth, as a ghost. You nursed your vengeance for a century. But in the end you forgave him his trespass against you. You forgave him by wanting to be with him. In doing that, you redeemed your soul. That's how you got to heaven." Edna Mae couldn't fathom this. It was like some sick joke. "You mean to tell me," she rasped, "that after all I did, everything I did to bring us back together, I still don't get to see Richard, my husband -- _because_ I tried to bring us together?! That's -- that's positively--" She was heaving, her breath was coming in horrified gulps. She felt like she was going to cry. Sophie was staring at her very patiently, with those big blue eyes. "But you're in heaven, Edie," she repeated slowly. Edna jerked away, finally. "It's not heaven without my husband!" she shouted at the girl, voice strained. An icy cold draft ripped across the field, licking her legs. The patio had dimmed, even though the sun still shone, it was as if it were shining through stained glass. Everything around turned a slightly darker hue, as if it were spoiling, going bad. The violin music which had been playing in the background all this time slowed down, like a recording on a phonograph, an eerie, moaning sound. Edna Mae looked round at the guests, all of whom seemed to have changed, their features slightly pointed, sinister-looking. "This isn't heaven," she repeated in a low moan. The guests in white were all grinning at her. Their smiles were unnatural, awful-looking. Sophie's girlish face had a baked red cast, like she'd been out in the sun too long. "But you're in heaven, Edie," she repeated in a monotone. "This is what it's really like. Not the harps-and-clouds bit they taught you in Sunday School. Just you and your family, and nobody else......" Edna Mae turned around and ran like mad. She shoved through the grinning, evil-faced partygoers in her path, and was not heartened by the fact that they didn't bother to stop her. She broke though the mob and sprinted into the grass like a scared deer. Her dress tangled around her legs as she ran -- damn these old fashioned dresses anyway!! She stumbled, springing forward, trying madly not to fall down-- She ran back over the field she'd come from. The weeds twisted around her shoes. Ruts opened up, hidden by the flax. She stumbled into holes and screamed in pain as her bones snapped. Both her legs were broken, and still she couldn't stop running. Her legs felt like they were burning. They WERE -- they were melting into the dirt, she was sinking into the field like quicksand. She hit the ground, the red hot grass slashing her arms, hungry for her. The whole ghastly white mob of them were coming up behind her over the grass, eyes glowing, smiles frozen. They hardly even looked human now. "Papa has been waiting for you, Edie!" called the thing that was wearing her sister's face like a broken mask. "He was so sorry to miss your wedding! He wants to give you a proper apology!" "Go away!!" screamed Edna Mae, up to her thighs in the icy hot sludge, weeping in terror. Her hands dug into the hot dirt, she kicked her broken legs in the muck and was rewarded with knifes pushing through them. It was like being stung by a jellyfish, stung and absorbed and stung worse in the process. The harder she fought to get away, the tighter the ground held, cementing around her legs, the grass devouring her flesh like fiery worms. The harder she fought.... Some small sane part of her struggled to hang onto this thought. She was in hell. Anything that she wanted, she would be denied. She had turned away, not wanting to see her doom approaching. Now Edna Mae forced herself to look, twisting in the muck, to face the demons that were almost upon her now. Their fearful faces were half-obscured by the red sun coming from behind them. "Sophie!!" she screamed. The demons were mere feet away. Edna Mae, sinking in the muck, extended her arms. "Dear sister!" she called, her voice shaking. "I've missed you so! Come here and give me a hug!" The hideous shapes slowed. They were only inches from her, and there they hovered in a half circle, grinning, glowing. Edna stared straight into the eyes of the thing masquerading as her sister. "Please, Sophie!" she got out in a desperate moan. "I've just -- been wanting to hug you so long..." It was true -- she would give anything to be where her real Sophie was now. The melancholy in Edna's voice was real. "...please sit down and have a talk with me!" The Sophie demon seemed to consider. Then it laughed hatefully, its true face half-showing behind its cracking skin. "Not yet, not yet," it hissed. And it backed away. The other monsters backed off almost in unison, abandoning her. _It was working, it was working._ Edna took care not to dwell on this thought, not even to acknowledge it. "Oh, please!" she shrieked, stretching her arms piteously toward them, forcing the pain into her voice. "I've been so lonely! No, please don't go away and leave me all alone...." They were gone already. Whether they returned to the patio or simply vanished as wisps of mist was uncertain, but the demons were indeed gone. Edna Mae giggled, briefly pleased with herself for figuring it out. The sound itself echoed queerly, more an echo for a closed room than for a field like this. Her giggle was awful, a near hysterical sound. Sobs cut her like more knives. She thrashed her legs, still trapped in the mud, and more pain laced her broken legs. _Wants were denied._ "I want to lay here forever," she muttered aloud. "I want to sink into the muck and feel its sting until the universe crumbles. I don't care if I ever get out." She really meant it. The sludge drew away from her out of spite. In no time her legs were free -- unbroken, even -- and she was able to pull them up, making sure to grumble about it as she did so. This was working better than she would have expected. "I wish I'd never see my Richard again," she uttered, half-hopeful. But it didn't work that time. No Richard came bounding over the grass. She was indeed in hell, and she was alone. Now the real melancholy came. She crumpled into the grass as the worst heartbreaking despair she'd ever felt sapped her bones. The grass burned, feasting on her skin, and she didn't even care. The faces flashed in her head like a nickelodeon. Sophie -- her real Sophie, her adoring kid sister, faithfully doing anything Edna asked. Her dear old funny Papa, round and red-faced, playing blind man's bluff with them on Christmas Eve. Her son's pink, scrunchy, adorable face, like a painting of a sleeping cherub. Even Faith, poor girl, on the wrong side at the wrong time. She had failed them all. She had betrayed, abandoned...even killed them. That was how she'd come here. And the one she'd done it for... Her husband's face flashed in her mind, and she choked at how badly she missed him. She knew how insane it was -- she couldn't stop, even her feelings were weapons against her. He was the reason she was here; she wanted to hate him, and was denied. Love pooled over her like a lava blanket, scalding her to a crisp. "Oh God," she moaned, rising to a scream as the fire scarred her skin, "God, I thought you had room in heaven for everyone who loved!! I loved him, and he loved me. How did we come to this?!" The grass stuck in her fossilizing skin. She lay under the blanket of lava, shaking in grief and despair for eons. She was in hell. He had to be in hell too. It was only fair. _And in that case, I might still be with him._ A noise made her sit bolt upright. The crust of brimstone smothering her shattered like a glass coffin, and she looked around the dark field, startled. What was she doing, laying here?! The monsters were coming back! Edna Mae scrabbled to her feet; burned, scared, and able to focus on only one thought. Every hell has a devil. She might as well go find hers. The stars in the sky were all red, burning in hateful glee. Well aware of the fact that this might be a form of hell too, searching for her husband for eternity, Edna Mae nevertheless took off over the molten flowers, running as fast and as far from the creatures behind as she dared. 

_"...So I'm all surrounded  
by the things I thought I'd put away..."_

Her boots clopped on the wet pavement as she walked along the dark Boston freeway, towards the skyline winking in the dim red sky. She cast hardly a glance around her as she walked purposefully towards the city limits, passing buildings and trash and grime. It was grungy, dangerous, and she loved it. This was what she'd grown up with, felt comfortable in. On the street, you knew where you stood. She knew how to take care of herself here. With the slight advantage she'd had all her life, her peculiar extra strength that had frightened kids and energized her being ever since she could remember, even the big bad city was no problem for her. She couldn't even remember why she'd ever left, but it didn't matter. She was coming home. The Boston skyline loomed on the red horizon. As much as she was walking, she didn't seem to be getting any closer. The urban sprawl wasn't sprawling enough; there were only a few buildings and abandoned cars around. She skipped over the railroad, boots clicking on the rails. For no particular reason, she stopped walking. She looked up at the building she'd come to rest by. The neon sign glared eerie red in the hazy dark -- THIRSTY'S, it informed her. She was thirsty. Of course she was underage. But with her looks, she could and had been mistaken for much older. For all that she couldn't understand why she was getting this weird vibe, like this was all wrong -- like she shouldn't be doing this. She had done it -- plenty of times, easy. Shouldering her black jean jacket, she hiked up the steps and pushed through the door. The bar was dark, smoky. Notices and signs glowed on the walls. The lame pool lighting did little to cut the gloom. It was different than the usual dimness typical of places like this. The dark in here was so thick, and hot, like fog wrapping around her, suffocating her skin, her very pores. The patrons -- all men, all huge bruiser types -- turned to look at the petite little girl who strode in like she owned the place. Even the jukebox paused. This was creepy. Faith shook off her apprehension and walked straight toward the bar, hopping onto a stool. "Gimme a beer," she ordered the bartender in the muscle shirt. She made a point of not looking him in the face, so it was a moment before she realized she was talking to a vampire. Faith did a double take. _Oh, hell,_ she realized -- _a freakin' lair. I'm in a lair of the damn things. _ Faith shifted easily on the stool, absently kicking the wall with the toe of her boot. They were ganging up behind her, the men that had watched her come in. She sat calmly, listening to the familiar snarls. Faith smiled. These guys didn't know what they were up against. "Guess I'm in the wrong place for a beer, huh?" she grinned at the vamp bartender. "You're in the wrong place, that's for sure." The vamp grinned back at her, baring its fangs. "'Round here we chug blood. Straight from the source, 'f ya know what I mean." She could hear toothy sniggers behind her. One of them moved. Hearing, Faith swung out her right arm, waiting to connect with the vamp's face. Something hit her so hard in the left ear that it knocked her off the stool. She hit the floor on her shoulder, and pain -- real red pain, like nothing she'd ever felt before -- crushed against her. Her shoulder had collapsed. She lay there, waiting for her eyes to focus, and she had only one thought. "What the f--" She was lifted off the floor by one hand. The hand hurled her across the room like a puppy. She slammed painfully against the wall, hitting the floor again, face down in old beer and garbage. Faith rebounded, jumping up in the next second. She'd had about enough of this. "Boy are you guys asking for it," she growled, getting up, "now--" A hand caught her under her chin, lifting her off the floor. Winding back her arm like a spring, she punched the attacker in the gut with her best punch. Her fist bounced harmlessly off his belly. She might as well have poked him with her finger. Enraged, Faith kicked and scratched. Her strength was gone. Really gone. The energy, the adrenaline that had boiled beneath her skin for most of her life, that had become her trusted ally -- it was completely gone. This was like what they said was supposed to happen during that lame Slayer test.....but some part of her knew this wasn't it. Not only was the force behind her moves gone -- she didn't remember the moves themselves at all. All her training, all her instinct was out the window. She was no longer a Slayer. Faith thrashed violently, and now it wasn't as a defensive measure but because she was getting scared. Something was really wrong here. The vamp grinned an ugly leer. "This ain't your day, babe," he growled. Something cold and sharp twisted in Faith's belly. _It's your day._ Faith blinked. What the hell was she doing in Boston?! She'd bailed out of Boston over a year ago! She'd crossed the country, hitching rides on trains, on busses, however she could. She had fled west, chased by the memories. Kakistos, the thing that had killed her Watcher Elizabeth. And something else, drawing her to the coast like a magnet. She'd gone to California, to Sunnydale....to Buffy. She remembered the other Slayer, being friends with her...and then being enemies. Hurting people, killing people. Having Buffy turn against her in the most painful way, along with the others. Running away again....this time to the Mayor. Mayor Wilkins, who everyone said was straight up evil -- and who for all his supposed evilness had treated her so fine, better than anyone had, ever. Who had promised her a place at his right hand. Who had entrusted her with keeping things smooth for his Ascension. Which led to shooting Angel. Fighting Buffy. Falling.......off that building...... .....and hitting the bottom...... And dying. "Oh, hell," moaned Faith, catching on. "Oh, _hell!!"_ The vampire laughed hoarsely, and he was joined by the others. Faith punched him again, and again; as hard as she could but he just absorbed the hit like it was nothing. She was dead, they were all dead, and she wasn't a Slayer anymore -- she was just a kid, just an ordinary stupid dead girl with less strength than a baby, and she was in a bar full of dead guys who were probably going to each have their turn at her and rip her to shreds and drink her blood. Faith was thrashing in frightened earnest now. The vamp that had her chuckled. "Hey, think you can do that in a pool of whipped creme?" he sniggered. Faith punched him again, knowing it was useless. "In your dreams, scuzzball!" she shouted at him. No way she was going to grind for these dead vamp things, no way in hell. Not even in hell. The vamp was mad now. "Let's see you just try to avoid it, bitch." Faith's mind raced; she did the first thing that came to mind. "You asked for it," she grinned, and in a last-ditch effort clamped both hands on his face and plunged her thumbnails as deep and as hard as she could into his eye sockets. That at least, was something she could still do right. The vamp roared like an animal and dropped her. She landed sideways on her ankle, and a blaze of hot pain shot up her leg. Swearing, she limped away, flicking the hot slime from her nails, sick with fright. She couldn't even take a fall from two lousy feet anymore. That never would have happened when she was a Slayer. Faith refused to entertain that thought. She wasn't going down that easily. She wasn't going to be turned into an ex-Slayer just like that. She was STILL a Slayer. Just because her dead body wasn't clued into that fact didn't mean she wasn't. Sidling aross the wall, she watched as the other vampires came at her. They had familiar faces too. One was that horny freak book-seller she'd gutted. He grinned at her, even uglier than she remembered. "Hey, Slayer," he snarled. "Bet you're ready to haggle now, aren't ya?!" The others were faceless. Nameless vamps she'd dusted throughout her life. She wasn't scared now, though, she was mad. "Screw this!!" she screamed at them with all her vengeance. "You bunch of lame rejects!! You were asking to get wasted!" From the crowd emerged a round little butterball -- Worth. That dopey little volcano guy. Still bleeding from the foot-long gash she'd opened in him. "I'll make it quick," he said plaintively. For some reason, this ghost did scare her, worse than all the big bruisers put together. Another sucker came at her, bigger than the others, grabbing her shoulders. He picked her up and slammed her against the wall. Faith's skin crawled as this one leaned against her, pressing his groin against her body. "How'd you like to be staked for once?!" he sniggered. He wasn't a vampire; a tattoo of a snake covered one half of his face and his hair was slicked back, tied in a greasy ponytail down his back. That meatbrained Gavrok box courier guy. Looking down, she saw something that might save her. She reached down, toward his belt buckle, grabbing something stuffed in his pants. "You first," she grinned sweetly. With way more effort than should have been necessary, she pulled out the knife he was wearing and speared him through the heart. Again. The snake-faced thug dropped to the ground, dropping her -- and unleashing the fury of the others. But she was armed now. Even a weak little girl was scary with a knife. "Come on!!" she yelled at them. "I've got a knife and I'm dead! _Who_ wants to screw with me??!" She lunged for the door, slashing at anything that got in her way. Dimly she realized that what she was holding was _the_ knife, the same one that had shimmered so beautifully in that neatly wrapped gift box. The same one that had gleamed in her gut as her blood turned its shine red. _Got it back, all right,_ she thought miserably. Another gross apparation popped up in her path. Small and wiry; blood pouring from his mouth. His flesh was pickled from being underwater for a while. A fish was still tucked in his jacket next to the hole in his heart. Deputy Dog Allan Finch. With a scream, Faith struck at him, ripping the blade across his face. The little man grabbed the knife. He yanked it out of her hand like he was taking a toy from a child. And he turned the blade around and plunged it dead center into her breast. Faith sucked in her breath. She could feel her heart explode in her chest. Her legs caved; a red haze dribbled down over her vision. Before she knew what happened she was staring up from the floor, seeing the demons assemble around her body through dimming red eyes. She was dying....again. She was dead. _ Not so fast._ Like waking up from a nightmare, like being pulled out of a drainage ditch, she regained consciousness. _And that's why it's called hell,_ she heard a voice say. _You don't get to die a peaceful death. You're already dead. You just keep coming back._ Faith cried with the pain in her chest. She was coming back, against her will, staring up at the demon thugs. _Deal with it, bitch, _ she heard. She looked up with dread at all of them practically drooling as they bent in for her. For the first and probably last time, Faith screamed in panic. 

**************************************

Buffy sat up in her bed with a scream. The phone was ringing. Her eyes searched the room, looking for demons and seeing...nothing. It was pitch dark. Buffy looked to her left and saw the numbers of her digital clock, glowing eerie red in the dark: 11:40. The phone rang on. Fumbling for the light, Buffy gave up and grabbed for the phone. "Hello?" she mumbled, her voice still shaking. "Buffy." Giles' voice came over the phone. "I'm terribly sorry..." Buffy blinked, trying to shift into thinking gear. "Giles," she mumbled. "It can't be September yet." "No," Giles voice was apologetic. "I'm afraid not, I'm sorry. It's close to midnight here, I wanted to give you eight hours of sleep at least. Buffy, the hospital called me this afternoon. At around four o'clock today, Faith--" "Faith?" Buffy's nerves prickled. She was wide awake...well, awaker now. "What about Faith?" Giles seemed reluctant to go on. "She....well, her heart stopped. They attempted to revive her, and they were successful, for a while at least, but she--" Buffy tugged her comforter closer, aware that she was shaking. Not because of Giles' words, but because of her reaction to them. She had known, somehow, she had been sick and nervy all afternoon, from the moment Angel had turned away and left her to the moment she'd come home and collapsed into bed. "Is she dead?" she ventured, and she was afraid to hear the answer. 

**************************************

They invaded the hospital, Buffy in the lead. The recieving room was deserted. Eerily deserted. Even an emergency room doesn't rest at one in the morning, especially not in Sunnydale. Buffy looked to Giles and at Willow, whom they'd called. They ran all the way up the stairs to the floor where Faith's room was -- and found it guarded. They went to the desk. "There was a girl," Buffy said to the desk jockey, "a girl in a coma--" The nurse shook his head. "I can't give out information about a patient except to family," he said. "No one's died here today," he added, for some reason. "We're friends," lied Willow. "Not for friends, not for anybody. We've got orders." And that was all the nurse would say. They pulled away down the hall a space. "How much do you want to bet they're Mayor's orders?" whispered Buffy. "The captain's in charge, even after his death," mused Giles. "That's assuming anyone has even realized it was him killed in the explosion." Willow confronted her friend. "Buffy....what does it matter?" she ventured. "Faith's dead. It's over." _It's never over._ Buffy shuddered remembering her words to Angel. Willow was startled by the hollow look in her friend's eyes. "I was wrong, Will," Buffy whispered. Willow was confused. "You had to kill her," she pointed out. "She didn't give you a choice--" "No." Buffy couldn't explain it. "We were all wrong. I shouldn't have tried--" "You had to!" Willow looked scared. "It was the only way--" "It wasn't," Buffy cut her off, touching the bandage on her neck. "Obviously." That was true. "But...you didn't know at the time! You couldn't have known you'd survive!" "But I did survive," said Buffy. "And if I'd done it that way the first time Faith might still be alive." Buffy couldn't believe the wave of guilt -- of grief -- that was pulsing through her. She felt sick to her stomach. "Alive and killing!" pointed out Willow. Giles looked worried. "Buffy... Faith is gone. Right or wrong--" "We can bring her back," Buffy decided suddenly. The look on their faces was almost comical. "Guys, come on!" exclaimed Buffy. "I mean, it's the Hellmouth! We can summon the demons of hell on an hourly basis but we can't bring someone back from the dead?!" She looked to Giles. "There's a way, isn't there?" Giles realized with some dismay that his brain was showing. She had seen his gears clicking right away. "Well...actually, there are certain spells...legends, really, superstitious rituals--" "Buffy, think!" Willow tugged her shoulder. "Faith. _Faith,_ we're talking!! The original Id Girl?!" "Faith the human being," Buffy cut her off, "as much as we'd like to think otherwise." "Buffy--" "We owe it to her, Giles!" Buffy was on the verge of irrationality. "We owe her that much! She helped us in the end, she gave me what I needed to defeat the Mayor!" "How can you be sure it was really her?" Willow pleaded. "Think about it, Buffy. Why would she turn against the Mayor?" Buffy shook her head. "I don't know. I keep thinking maybe she saw the light..." The image of Faith outlined in the almost heavenly light outside her window gave Buffy a chill. "I don't know, but at what point do we give up? At what point do we say, 'Well, she helped us, but because of this other stuff, she dies'? Who are we to judge that?" "At what point do we say 'please stop stabbing us to death, Faith?'" returned Willow meekly. Silence. Willow sighed miserably. "I'll do it for you, because you won't make it back without me," she told her friend. "But if she kills us all, don't come crying to me." Buffy couldn't help smiling. "Thanks Will," she said quietly. She turned to Giles. "How much time do we have?" "Not enough," he answered. "We'd better get started." With that they took off, making for Giles' apartment, where they'd stockpiled the books from the library. Half an hour later, suitably armed, they went back to the scene of the crime. The crater that used to be the high school was cordoned off; news reporters were milling around getting in the way of the firemen, who were poking around the wreckage looking for survivors, though they didn't really expect to find anyone at this late hour. The bodies of Principal Snyder and Mayor Wilkins still had not been found, and a few undisclosed students were still missing. The fire department was being typically close-mouthed about the whole affair, though they did explain away the large chunks of meat laying around as sides of beef, what would have been served for the ladies auxiliary meeting in the auditorium next week. Buffy, Willow and Giles surveyed the scene. "Think they'll let us perform a voodoo ritual if we ask nicely?" asked Willow hopefully. "We don't have to be right on top of the Hellmouth," reasoned Giles. "Yeah, but the closer the better." Buffy had a thought. "The portable classrooms near the back of the property. They didn't get kaboomed." They made their way as stealthily as they could lugging packs of magical items along. The "portables" were a series of classrooms in a long red building some yards from the actual high school. Giles broke into the door of one and they entered, brushing away cobwebs. The classrooms had been shut up for some time, but it was the kind of place one could imagine a vamp dragging a meal to and feasting with no trouble. The two magicians cleared off a long table and set up their wares. It was an extremely slow process, made even more somber by the realization of what they would have to do. As Willow drew a mystical symbol on the tabletop with a black wax stick, Giles watched Buffy worriedly as she drank glass after glass of several foul-smelling, fouler- tasting concoctions. The effect was almost immediate, Buffy wavered where she was sitting on the edge of the table, her head spinning. Giles didn't like this at all. "Buffy," he finally couldn't help saying. Buffy shook her head, rubbing her eyes. "You'd think the ancient ones could have at least worked some mango flavor into their spells," she muttered. "Are you sure you are up to this?" Giles asked. Buffy nodded. "Not like I've never died before." Giles blinked repeatedly, nervous. He had his cell phone where he could easily summon an ambulance, and a few syringes full of medicine to restart the Slayer's heart if he had to. It was still unsettling to think that there was no other way -- Buffy would have to pass into the spirit world, and then into hell -- but first, she had to die. They had read up on the methods used by Indian shamen to induce out-of-body journeys, and Willow had created a talisman to protect Buffy's soul as she passed into hell. It was a horn-shaped ivory pendant on a black silk ribbon. "The Sight of Truth and Love are bestowed upon the bearer," Willow told Buffy as she fastened it around the Slayer's neck. As she did this her fingers grazed the wound that Angel had inflicted when he'd fed off Buffy. Willow couldn't help thinking who was really responsible for this wound -- the same girl they were about to try and rescue. Willow shook this off and continued. "The illusions of Hell will not decieve thee, nor the torments of the pit harm thee. Ye shall walk as in a shroud, and be not consumed by the fires." Buffy lay down on the table, near-unconscious already. The idea was to use the Hellmouth to get in, while performing the precarious trick of not letting the nasties out. As Willow began the necessary Latin incantations, Giles waited with a hypodermic to ease Buffy into an unconscious state, and both of them were uncomfortable with the memories that brought. "Are you ready?" Giles asked, concern in his face. Buffy nodded. _ Don't die, Faith,_ she mentally repeated her first rule to the dead Slayer, if she could hear. "I'm ready," Buffy told him. 

_"...Poor thing, do you have a sister?  
Would you lay your body  
Down on the tracks for her?  
Step one tiptoe in Hell  
for her?  
Don't you have someone you'd die for..."_

Somehow, she never figured how, but she fought her way out of there. Faith was messed up. She couldn't see herself, but she felt wrecked. Her chest was killing her, jogging with every step she took as she walked down the dark highway. The blood had slowed to a steady trickle, more came out the more she moved, and it just didn't stop coming. Probably it never would. Her superability to repair herself was gone, dead with the body she'd voluntarily tossed off that building. A violent sob escaped her. She was dead, for real dead, the end. And this was hell. THE hell. She'd ended up right where everyone said she would. She couldn't believe it. Part of her had never believed in the fright tales that endless preachers and social workers and even her mom had shoved down her throat. And part of her had always felt that her actions were justified. Yeah, she killed -- she had to, to survive. She killed the bad guys. And occasionally a good guy, but only for a really good reason. And then, for a while there, she hadn't been able to kill anything but good guys. Even this had seemed justified. They were the traitors, not her. She was looking out for number one; how could anyone expect her to do good later on if she didn't survive now? She'd redeem herself someday. Deep down, she'd always felt that it would even out in the end. But she hadn't figured on Buffy coming to kill her. _I still can't believe it. She didn't even flinch. Just shoved the knife right in. I never knew she had it in her._ "I never knew you had so much rage in you, Faith." Buffy's words came back like a slap in the face. Faith winced, her chest jogged by the pain flooding through her mangled heart. "I didn't know you could chuck the white hat so fast," Faith snarled to the empty air. "Didn't take you long to come around to my way of thinking, did it B?" Rage was eclipsing her initial terror at finding herself in hell. It was bad, all right, but -- her old sneer briefly returned -- it wasn't as bad as she was. As horrible as the experience in the bar had just been.... this was it? She'd gone through crap like that every day of her life. She'd gone through worse at home when she was a kid. This was the big bad hell everyone was so frightened of? Big whoop. Her legs snapped underneath her like straws. Faith screamed. She hit the gravel dirt on her hands, ripping them raw. Then she stared down at her legs. They were almost neatly bent right in half, just below the knees. She belted out the worst word she knew. Then, unexpectedly, she began to cry. She looked up at the dark red sky. The outline of a church spire loomed overhead. A church? Down the road, in the dark, something howled. The creeps from the bar might still be following, coming back for more. Startled, Faith got painfully to her feet and limped her way into the cathedral. Her feet scuffed hollowly on the red marble floor, which was cracked and dropped off toward the back. Looked like an earthquake had wrecked the place. The alter was smashed. Well, she didn't guess churches were exactly welcome in hell. That wasn't it. The pillars loomed like redwood trunks. The candles cast inferno-like shadows on the walls. This was no holy church. In a lot of pain, Faith limped toward the center of the room. She stopped. She whipped around. Edna Mae Wilkins was standing not ten feet away. She looked about the way Faith felt. Some of her hair was still up in those rags, but some had fallen out and left black snaky tendrils hanging, like the Medusa. The skin of her forehead was chipped and peeling away like the paint on a kewpie doll. Her eyes looked disconnected from her face, like they were back there, they just weren't attached, because they seemed to be rolling back a little too much. Bubbles of green slime studded her wet hair. Faith couldn't help wondering if she herself looked like that. The grisly thing saw Faith, too, and a hateful purple rictus of a grin broke her face. "Faith," she greeted happily. _And why shouldn't she be happy,_ thought Faith. _She only helped stick me here so she could get ol' Dickie back._ Faith did not know how she knew this -- the thought bloomed in her head like a sharp, ugly flower. She thought it, and knew it was true. The red haze flooded her eyes again, but this time it wasn't blood, it was rage. Faith grinned. "Bitch," she greeted back, whipping out her knife. The smile dropped off Edna's face. She raised her arm in a half attempt to defend herself as the Slayer ran at her. Faith plunged the knife right through her forearm. The knife stuck there grotesquely, not hurting her a bit. Edna Mae stared at her speared arm with a look of consternation. "That was absolutely uncalled for!" she snapped haughtily. Faith couldn't care less. "You had it coming," she snarled. "See, I figure I owe you a couple of times over. I figured it out -- guess I'd be about three generations removed, right?" She pointed at the older woman. "Removed -- ha! You removed your kid, all right--" The elder woman's eyes glittered. "I saved my son's life. I don't need to defend myself." "You chickened out!!" spat Faith. "Stuck him with your sister -- who was probably a total whore, if the rest of the bloodline's any indication. I figure I've got you to thank for my lousy mom -- and her lousy mom, and her lousy mom.....not that I think you could have done any better." She smirked grimly. "Not that you gave it much of a try." Edna Mae burned at the whore comment. "Aren't you a clever one! I hope you've learned something from all this!" "Damn straight," sneered Faith, ripping the knife out of the woman's arm. "Next time go for the eyeballs." Edna let out a satisfying scream as Faith drew back her arm to strike again. At the farthest black corner of the church, a loud, clacking rattle sounded. Faith froze, arm upraised. A massive slithery noise, like something large and thick being dragged over concrete passed them on one side, cloaked in the inky darkness. Something was in the church with them. Faith's eyes widened as she caught sight of an immense beaded tail gliding behind a pillar. Edna Mae's head jerked. Her eyes were shining in the candlelit dark. "Dickie??" she ventured hopefully. 

*********************************

Buffy walked down the hallway, taking in her surroundings. Lockers, overhead lighting, that familiar smell -- there was only one place it could be. She was back in high school. Buffy nodded to herself, looking around. "Yep," she sighed. "I'm in hell, all right." It was not Sunnydale High School. She could've seen that even if she hadn't blown the real school to kingdom come. There was nothing visible to give it away, no discernable difference between it and what she knew to be the real school, but it was false just the same. Some intangible thing that kept it from being a perfect fake. Buffy fingered the talisman Willow had given her to protect her in the underworld. With it she would see through all deception, and it was helping her to see now. This was not the school. She was in hell. "Buffy." She turned, recognizing the voice before she saw him. "Angel?" He was walking down the hall toward her, between grinning kids and teachers. He looked exactly as he had the last time she'd seen him. Buffy's heart broke at the look on his face. She could see right through him. "Get away from me," she warned, her voice shaking. "Buffy, it's me," he said, coming toward her. "I know it's you." Buffy stood her ground, knowing what she would have to do even as she disbelieved it. "You want more of what you got last time, just keep coming." "You know I never get enough of you." His beautiful face looked out of place under the buzzing hall lights. "I came back, Buffy. Giles told me what happened. I couldn't let you come down here alone." "You're not Angel," she interrupted. "I don't have time to waste on you. Walk away or be kitty litter, I really don't care, but don't get in my way." He was still coming, slowly but steadily. "I know what this looks like, Buffy, but you have to believe me. Giles knew you needed my help, that's why he sent me down. You won't find Faith by yourself. You're a tourist. I'm an ex-resident." That hurt, lopsided crossed his face. His gaze traveled down her neck, to her talisman. "Lose your religion?" He reached out to touch the pendant. Buffy jerked away. Angel backed off. "Hey...it's ok. I get it." He looked vaguely hurt. "You don't trust me." Buffy felt an unwelcome rush of pain hit her. "I trust Angel," she conceded in a hoarse voice. "You I'd rather throw -- Angelus." On that the vampire's soft features twisted. Yellow eyes glared out at her over hardening fangs. "Sounds like fun," he growled. Buffy didn't have her stake. She didn't have anything to defend herself with but her skills and....the talisman. She didn't think it'd be much help, though. He wasn't invincible, and probably wasn't even Angelus, just some illusion of her deepest fears -- but she would have felt safer with a stake all the same. Isntead, she took the smarter route -- she ran. 

**********************************

Edna Mae had moved into the darkness beyond the pillars, peering into the forestlike expanse. "Ri-charrrrrd," she called in a plaintive, playful voice. "Come out, come out, wherever you are...." A witchy, semi-mad giggle escaped her. Faith was disgusted. "Doesn't it bother you that your boy's the Monster that ate Cleveland right now?" she cracked halfheartedly. Her dead-pale face went even paler. The grin dropped off her lips. Something huge and terrible was emerging from the dark and approaching them -- but it wasn't the huge and terrible thing they were expecting. Edna Mae had been about to retort something, but the hulking form threw out an arm, and Edna was knocked across the floor with a scream. The thing came into the hazy red light, scarred face grinning as he sighted Faith. "Slayer," the voice of Kakistos snarled. Faith was frozen. Not that. Anything but that. Being stabbed, being raped, being hacked to bits -- she could handle all that. She couldn't face this. "No," she moaned. "Oh, hell, no, please no..." The ancient vampire came at her. Faith was paralyzed with fear. Kakistos grabbed her by the neck, lifting her off the floor. "I've been waiting a long time for this," leered the cloven vampire. At the same time, in her own private hell, Buffy shoved though the school hallway, chased by Angelus. With a strong sense of deja vu she crashed through the door into the library and...... She was in church. Blinking, Buffy took in the scene. It was a church all right. At the top of the aisle, where the pulpit should have been, a door of light and purity shone. Buffy understood immediately -- that was why a church was in hell. The door out would be something akin to holy. She also knew that she could see it because of the talisman. Anyone else wouldn't have been able to. What looked like a demon party was in full swing before her. Three of them were throwing each other into tables and pews, trashing the church. Buffy steeled herself as one of the demons hurled the other one straight at her, and in a startled flash the Slayer found herself face to scarred face with...... Buffy stared. "Faith??" She looked horrible. The belly wound from her knife seemed to have spread over her whole chest, it was one big sucking wound. Her eyes were wild and slightly tinted, the pupils contracted to the point where they looked like goat's eyes. Her hair was matted and caked with mud -- or was it blood? She looked like a bloodthirsty animal. The other demon -- Buffy recognized it as Kakistos -- grabbed the brunette Slayer's arm and flung her though the air, into a table of candles. The table collapsed, and the old Faith would have jumped right back up and taught her attacker a thing or two about throwing. But Faith was rendered helpless, rolling over in agony. She only cringed in horror as the vampire came at her again. From out of nowhere the grisly apparition of Edna Mae came shrieking out of the dark, leaping onto the vampire's back. She began hammering at his skull with an iron candlestick -- it almost looked like she was trying to distract him from Faith. Kakistos was only briefly distracted -- he simply backed up, squashing the old girl against a craggy wall. Edna Mae sank to the ground moaning, the wind knocked out of her. Buffy's attention was broken by Angelus punching her. She couldn't help Faith, she had her own demon to fight. "Faith!!" she shouted to the Slayer nonetheless. From the floor, though a hazy static of terror, Faith stared at Buffy in disbelief. The blonde Slayer glowed in the red darkness, like a golden...Faith felt like a dork describing her as an angel but that's what she looked like, bathed in a light as bright and pure as the surrounding world was black and evil. As Faith watched, Buffy engaged in a few swipes and then beheaded something that looked like Angel. It was a trick, it had to be...but it didn't look like a trick. It looked like the real Buffy. "How'd you end up down here?" Faith blurted out. Or maybe she just thought it. All this happened in the space of a second, the second it took for Kakistos to pull Faith toward his scarred jaws. Faith couldn't have defended herself even if her powers weren't gone. She knew where she was. She couldn't defeat Kakistos this time, not even if she tried. The horrible truth of this thought froze her even as she knew she was a goner.... The floor rumbled. The entire church trembled. Suddenly something swooped down and enveloped the whole top of the demon's body, nearly missing Faith. There was a moment's pressure, and then a violent CRUNCH as huge jaws snapped the vampire's body in half. Faith had closed her eyes. She felt herself hit the ground, and opened her eyes to find herself gripped by two severed arms. Nearby stood Kakistos....the lower half of him, anyway. His cloven feet were still standing, propping up his amputated torso. Faith scrabbled away. She scooted backward on her rear blindly toward Buffy, and Edna. The three of them were united, staring up in awe at the long, snake-like body that towered above them -- charred, blood seeping down his skin but still terrifying; the demon Olvocan, or if you prefer, the former Mayor Wilkins III. Edna Mae couldn't help cheering. "Bravo!!" she laughed, thrilled to pieces. Buffy gazed up miserably, wondering how she was going to kill it this time. "Deja vu," she muttered. "Don't celebrate yet, it still looks hungry." Faith was blacking out repeatedly -- her mind was freaking out on her. She was flashing back to that last night, the last fight, with Buffy. "There's a cure," Buffy's voice sounded in her ears. "It's your blood." In that moment Faith had felt the worst she had in a long time. Why the hell would the Mayor pick that particular poison to knock off Angel, unless....... Unless he'd set her up. Fresh rage poured through Faith. It was what had adrenalized her fight with Buffy, though a lot of good it had done her. It flooded through her now, hotter and fiercer than before, eclipsing all rational thought. Because now she was dead. She was dead, and she was rotting in hell......and it was _all his fault._ Leaping to her feet, Faith glared up at the snake. "Son of a bitch," she growled. She rushed straight at the belly of the beast, rearing back her knife. His knife. The knife he'd given her. "Faith!--" cried Buffy. "--don't!!" screamed Edna. She plunged it right into his gut. She twisted the blade in the steely scales. The demon reared up in pain, lifting Faith off the ground. The Slayer rose two stories into the air, her knife ripping the snake from chin to stern as gravity worked against him. Boiling hot blood gushed from the wound. But they were both dead, it didn't do any good. The knife slipped and Faith plummeted to the ground, landing hard on her back. Something large and gooey dripped from the gash in the demon's body, landing right on top of her with a splat. Faith groaned in disgust as whatever it was squirmed and writhed on top of her -- it was Principal Snyder. "--QUIET!!" he finished, covered in gunk. Faith shoved him. "Get the HELL off me!!" she screamed, pushing him away. Snyder scrabbled to his feet, more predigested troll than man. "Quiet....quiet..." he chattered, and ran away in a panic. Dizzily, Faith got to her feet -- only to have Edna Mae shove her across the floor, into the wall. The grisly old woman glared at her. "You horrid little ingrate!!" Edna cried. "I've half a mind to--" She whirled around and gazed up as the monstrous face of the demon dove toward them. The three girls froze as it stopped, its giant teeth as long as their bodies and inches away. It could have devoured them all in one gulp. Edna Mae stood frozen, not moving a muscle. She could see her reflection in the red eyes of the beast, could see its pupils moving in the dark red pools. The creature growled menacingly. Buffy and Faith waited, wondering if the transformed Mayor would devour all of them, whether he would eat his own wife. After a moment that seemed like an hour, to the girls' disgust Edna Mae reached out a shaking hand and touched the demon's oddly pug-like nose. "I'm sorry," she murmured in a soft voice. Her touch became a stroke, caressing the scales slowly, almost lovingly. "There....you're all right. It's me....remember me?" She was actually smiling. The demon blinked, massive eyelids slipping down and up in a heartbeat. At any rate, it didn't snap her up. Then it backed off sharply, the huge skullish face retreating into the dark. The snakelike body slithered backward like it was being dragged down a large crevice in the ruined church floor, vanishing into the abyss. Buffy and Faith didn't know what to think. Neither did Edna Mae. Slowly she walked over to the wreckage, feet clicking hollowly in the dark. She stopped at the edge, peering down into the black hole. Suddenly a huge smile broke over her pale face. She dropped down, her shroud deflating around her, and leaned over the edge, muttering something the Slayers couldn't hear. "--and you're all dirty," she crooned as she pulled up an arm. Buffy and Faith froze as the face of Mayor Wilkins appeared over the edge of the ravine. He was a sight. His skin was scarred, his jacket dirty and charred as he allowed his wife to help him up. Some feet away a huge beaded tail emerged from the pit and clamped the side of the broken floor, and the lower half of the Mayor's body -- still a snake's tail, instead of legs -- appeared as Edna Mae dragged him up onto the floor. "Oh, hell," muttered Faith. Edna Mae's laughter echoed in the darkness. She collapsed under the Mayor's weight and they fell to the floor, rolling over together. Edna quite forgot her withered, corpselike appearance; ignored Wilkins' battered, reptilian form. They made quite a grotesque pair, but she couldn't have cared less. She was so happy to finally be reunited with him. She caressed his face with a bony hand, gazing at him with lovestruck eyes. "Oh, my poor sweetheart," she rasped sympathetically. "What a mess you've made of yourself!" And unable to contain herself she leaned over and kissed him, a hungry, depraved kiss full on the mouth. Buffy thought she was quite likely going to barf. "Who is that?!" she wondered aloud. Faith glared at the couple. "That's the Mrs," she snarled. "Little Mrs. Bitch Edna Mae." Buffy recognized the name. "The Mayor has a wife??" She hadn't quite believed it when he'd related that story, part of his argument that Angel and Buffy were wrong for each other. Buffy had thought it was just one of those stories politicians tell to demoralize opponents in elections. Boy, she wished she'd been right. Unbelievably, Edna Mae was still kissing her husband, fiercely and longingly, fingers kneading his shoulders like a cat. And something strange was happening. The serpent's tail that lay across the floor was vanishing. It cleaved in half, becoming cloth and flesh, the scales turning to human legs. Before long the Mayor had reverted to the form he had held before the Ascension. And he was none too happy about it, either. He was getting to his feet, pulling her up with him. Edna clung on, trying to drag him back. He finally broke her hold and jumped away with a yell -- not because of her, but because he was shaking away a host of crawling microscopic germlike bugs that had been bedeviling him since he'd arrived. The Mayor leaped across the floor like a puppet on strings, shouting and scratching. Edna, good wife that she was, tried to help, both of them swiping at his arms and legs. It would have been a funny sight if the situation were different. It was at this moment that the Mayor saw the Slayers. He was wobbling on his human legs once again, but he broke into a nightmarish leer as he caught sight of Buffy. A sarcastic laugh started in his throat and soon he was cackling so madly that it echoed in the rafters. "Well!" he finally got out, when his laughter had subsided, "if it isn't Little Miss Fearless Dragon Slayer." He walked toward them, limping slightly, but only slightly. "Looks like not all little girls go to heaven, do they?! Well, if you can't beat 'em, take 'em down with you, I always say." His evil eyes looked around. "Where's your gallant boy Ned? Hm? Guess that eternal love thing didn't quite pan out, huh?" He giggled snidely. Edna Mae giggled, too, though in her case it was likely because her arms had found their way around the Mayor's neck again. Buffy had absolute zero patience for talking about Angel now, especially with the Mayor. "Bite me," she tossed savagely at him. "There's a bad choice of words." The Mayor's grin had turned into a gnashing of teeth. He was managing to be very threatening even with his wife hanging girlishly around his neck. "I was kidding before, but even indisposed like this, maybe I can still see my way to devour you alive." He really looked ready to leap on the Slayer and tear her to shreds right there. But Edna Mae tugged him away. "Forget it, forget it," she murmured. "Sweetheart, forget them, let them go. We're back, we're together now." She smiled beguilingly up at him. As far as she was concerned, the game was over, prize was won. She was happy. But the Mayor brushed away her hands, annoyed. "You I'm not too thrilled with right now!" he returned, not viciously but sharply all the same. "Two hundred years -- two hundred, Edna!! Do you have any idea how many deals I had to make -- how many sacrifices I made, and not just for me, for both of us....." He glared, and he was trying to be intimidating, but there was a frustration in his voice than none of them had ever heard before. As if for once, he didn't quite know what to say. "....Being a demon isn't like chewing gum and walking at the same time, you know!! One human emotion and all that hard work's out the window. Not to mention the fact -- God, Edna, one might as well say you murdered my Faith!--" Edna Mae had backed off, startled; her black eyes wide. Her withered hands shook. She looked absolutely shattered. "You murdered me first," she shot back in a low, dangerous voice. The Hellmouth sparkled like a star. Buffy saw her chance. Now was the time, while the honeymooners were distracted. She tugged Faith's arm, and to Faith's questioning eyes she nodded back toward the light at the top of the stairs. "Come on," Buffy whispered. Faith stared at the blonde Slayer. She couldn't quite believe it. Buffy had come to hell -- and was handing her, Faith, a ticket out. There were a thousand questions Faith wanted to ask; instead she took Buffy's hand. Sometimes fate was a damn nice thing. The Mayor noticed, though. "Faith," he called. He didn't look too pleased at Buffy leading the second Slayer away. Faith cast a brief look back, but kept on walking. Wilkins didn't like this. "Faith?" Both his girls were abandoning him. Edna Mae was backing away from the man she'd previously wanted with all her soul. She had gone through hell for him, literally...and he didn't seem to care. "If you weren't dead already....." Her voice was absolutely murderous. A low growling started in the darkness. It might have been Edna -- but Buffy and Faith stopped dead as they realized there was something blocking the door back to the upperworld. All of them; the Wilkinses, Buffy and Faith, froze as red eyes glowed in the dark hulky frame, and another growl sounded. It had to be the size of an elephant. Edna Mae, turned from her glare, uttered a scream -- of recognition. The Mayor recognized it too. He was first to break the shocked silence. "Hey, Rusty," he greeted, his voice oddly dry. "Good boy...there's my dog...." The growl intensified. _It_ remembered, too -- and by the sound, it wasn't a happy memory. A gruesome apparation of a dog came galloping toward them out of the light. It was charred, blackened skin hung off it in strips, and its gums protruded horribly. Its eyes glowed red and it stank of charred barbeque. Jaws gnashing, roaring like a lion, it sprang toward the four. At the rear, Edna Mae's eyes rolled back in her head. The power Wilkins had given her burned around her temples like a halo. She wanted them gone. She wanted everyone, everything to just go away. She really really wanted it. Her eyes popped open and an impact wave of pure energy -- hot, hellish, full of hate -- slammed them all; the hound, the Slayers. "Edna!" shouted the Mayor. She turned her killer gaze on him. It was like being bowled over by a boiling ocean wave. The hellhound was stopped in mid-leap, never made it to his target. Buffy and Faith lost footing and hurled toward the dog, into the door of light. The Mayor was knocked off his feet and pushed toward the Hellmouth as well. For a blinding white moment, it was a total free-fall. Faith bolted up, shouting a violent curse. Her fingers clutched something that enveloped her like a caul, and she tore frantically at it, ripping the fabric under her fingers. The simple motion felt good. Faith realized it was because she was tearing it with her strength -- her Slayer strength, she was pleased to find. The heavy plastic came apart under her fingers like cotton candy. This revelation was followed by one much more important. She was butt naked. Faith stared down. Her entire body ached, she was stiff as though she'd been in a meat locker for a week. She looked frantically around and came face to face with a guy. It wasn't a demon. The dope looked like a hospital intern. The room around him was ice cold and walled with grey cement. Faith, teeth chattering, realized with horror that what she'd been ripping apart between her nails was a morgue-issue body bag. She looked down at the stripped plastic. Absently she pulled it over her exposed parts. The guy had gotten a good show, that's if he had been able to recover from the shock of having one of his corpses jump up on him. He and Faith stared each other in the eyes like they were alien life. "Sorry," muttered Faith. The poor dope collapsed to the hard floor in a faint. In the classroom, Buffy leaped up, gasping. Giles was the first thing she saw. "Are you all right?" he shouted. Buffy realized he had to shout, because the something outside the portable classroom's windows was shrieking like an ambulance siren. Red eerie light played against the pane. Willow screamed. Giles and Buffy turned to where she was looking, as the smell of burnt dog flesh permeated the air. In the corner, red eyes glared out of the hulking darkness. "Rusty," muttered Buffy. The massive hound barked rabidly at them. Willow scrabbled away, grabbing a loose board for protection. Giles and Buffy backed off, wondering what to do. "Did you bring the harpoon?" yelled Buffy. Giles hadn't. "Nothing like underestimating your evening," he muttered. Buffy overturned the table she'd been lying on and delivered a hard kick to the middle, splintering the wood. She tore a good-sized splinter of wood out of the table and leaped to the fore, surveying her options. The demon dog swiped a huge blistered paw out at her. Buffy crashed to the floor and rolled, aiming. With one good shove she pushed the wood into the hound's underside. The dog took a step forward -- then collapsed, nearly burying the Slayer underneath its body. Buffy scrambled out from under before it hit the floor, dead. _Crash._ Shakily Willow, Buffy, and Giles congregated before the charred remains of the demon dog. "Are you okay?" asked Willow. Buffy nodded. She cast a look at the window -- the red lights were gone. The tremendous noise that had greeted her awakening was gone too. It was almost too quiet out there. Giles' cell phone picked this moment to chirp happily. Everyone jumped. Giles heaved a sigh and answered his phone. "May I ask you leave a message?" he greeted whoever-it-was. Oz leaned on the payphone in the hospital waiting room. "Just thought you'd like to know... ..Frankenstien lives." It was a lame code, but effective. "Are you sure, Oz?" Giles confirmed. "I'm looking at her right now." Oz watched as the gurney disappeared into the elevator. It was three in the morning, so the staff hadn't made much attempt to hide the fact that the coma victim who had been dead an hour ago was sitting up on the gurney, blueish and pale but clearly awake. "See you at the castle." Giles bid goodbye and beeped off, trying to remember if castle meant his own home or an actual castle. "Did it work?" asked Willow nervously. Giles nodded. "Oz saw Faith," he reported. "Awake, apparently. She is alive." He looked at Buffy. "You succeeded. Congratulations." _But what did I succeed at,_ was the question that Buffy knew was in their minds. "I saw the Mayor," she told them. Giles blinked. "Good God. In there, you mean?" He nodded toward the wall and the Hellmouth beyond it. Buffy nodded, glancing down at the dead hellhound. "And if Clifford here is any indication, I don't know if that's where he stayed." "What do you mean?" Willow looked startled. "You don't think....." "No," said Buffy. "But we should keep an eye out, just in case." She looked around at Willow's downcast look, at Giles' trepidation. "It's ok. I really don't think he got out......_you_ guys didn't see him, did you?" No's all around. "Do you think there'll be another Slayer now?" wondered Willow. "I mean Faith did die and everything...." None of them even wanted to think about the possibility of a third Slayer. "We'll burn that bridge when we come to it," Buffy muttered. She tried to smile at them. "We did a good thing. Faith's alive." She wished she sounded happier about that. Willow couldn't seem to stay away from the heavy questions. "Are you going to see her?" Buffy looked at the two, both waiting for her answer. She didn't have one. 

****************************************** 

Days passed. Buffy avoided the hospital like mad. She wanted to go, to see for herself, but she didn't know how to handle what she'd find. She wanted to think of some good strategy first, and as a result, she put it off. At last Buffy ventured to the hospital, unable to keep from it any longer. She didn't check in at the desk. She had the feeling they wouldn't let her in. Instead she snuck into the elevator when the intern's back was turned and made for the third floor. Out of a coma, Faith would be moved out of critical and into...whatever they called non-critical care. She was here. Carefully Buffy walked down the hallway, inching around trays and mop buckets. She knew where the room was, without even knowing how she knew. She peered into the door, hoping Faith would be asleep, and half hoping not to see her sleeping. It seemed wrong to sleep when you'd been in a coma. Faith was staring right at her. Buffy resisted the urge to jump. Faith's eyes had caught her the minute she'd peeked in, as if the other Slayer had known, too. Both Slayers froze. It was Faith who finally blinked, trying to hide the nervous, haunted look that Buffy had glimpsed for a second. "Hey, B." She threw out the greeting like a shield, without meaning to. Buffy stood in the doorway, feeling awkward. Far removed from the angry confidence she'd felt that last night in the apartment. "Faith," she started. And she couldn't think of anything to follow it up with. "Hi" was too friendly, anything else was too cold. She asked the question she'd really come for: "How...how are you?" Faith shrugged. She had recovered some from her bruises and wounds, but she was still pale, and much gaunter than before. Her fingers were twitching unconsciously, and Buffy was surprised to see a few actual grey hairs, near invisible but definately there, in between the chestnut brown. Her dark eyes were hollow in her bony face. "Do you care?" she asked. Then, "You know me." Buffy nodded. "Thought I did." Faith didn't bother with that. "Guess I owe you one. You came and dragged my ass out of hell. You didn't even do that for your boy." She cracked a smile, but her heart wasn't in it. Buffy nodded, taking a deep breath. "We need to talk." _Four worst words in the world,_ thought Faith. Buffy folded her arms, as if in defense. "Have -- have the police been here?" Faith's set lips parted, realizing. _Son of a bitch._ "The cops figure it out?" she asked. The familiar rage was welling in her sore stomach. Buffy hadn't come to see how she was. She'd come to make sure her ass was covered. Buffy blinked. "What? No -- I mean..." Oh. Well, no surprise there. The Sunnydale PD was uncommonly dense. "Why'd you come, then?" Faith asked. "Now, I mean. You've had all week." Buffy didn't know. "I wanted to see--" She was usually really eloquent, why she was screwing this up, she couldn't guess. "After what happened..." "Something happen?" Faith snickered. "You mean like you coming to murder me? That why you came? You felt guilty?" Buffy stood, face burning. She hadn't expected that. "Yes," she admitted. "No. I didn't--" Faith turned her glare on Buffy. It was the old glare, mocking and dark. "Murder," she repeated. "That's right, B. You came that night to kill me. You traded me for Angel, pure and simple. Try talking your way around that one." A grim half-smile tugged at her face. "What'd I tell you? All that self-righteous bull you were spouting and all along you were a stone cold killer, just like me. I told you so." The smile was full force now. "Faith--" Buffy was shaking, trying to ignore what was being said, not because it wasn't true -- it was true -- but because there was more to it than that. "You-you were so far gone. You were killing people like flies. You killed that professor, for no reason--" "--that you'd understand, anyway." "You were going to let the Mayor feed off a town full of--" "You were gonna feed me to Angel!" Faith pointed, outraged. "A demon's a demon!" Buffy threw her own words at her. "You threw down the gauntlet! What did you want me to do?!" "What did _you_ want me to do?!" Faith snapped back. "Let the Council drag me back to England? Lock me up in London Dungeon? How long do you think I'd have lasted over there? You seriously think they'd have kept me around?!" "They dropped the order!" argued Buffy. "You were back on patrol! You were home free!" "No such thing." Faith turned her face away, scowling. "You oughta know that, B." "Oh, great reasoning!" Buffy was losing control and couldn't help it. "And you wonder why you ended up where you did?!" "No." Faith was full on now. "I'm wondering why you came to get me out. Because frankly, B, from this whole guilt trip you're pulling it sure sounds like you think that's where I should have stayed!" Her voice was savage, masking the hurt. "I should've known, I should have, that you'd pull something like this. Little miss Sugar Slayer, always gotta do the right thing. Go get poor evil Faith out of hell, so you can feel better about yourself. 'Hey, at least I did right by Faith.' You call this doing me right?!" Her arms waved at the medical apparatus around her. "You wanna know what I think? I don't think it was about Angel, or the boss, at all. You were jealous. I had a place, I had a future. I had someone to take me for ice cream and all that crap." She glared at Buffy. "Couldn't say that about your old man, could you?" Buffy couldn't believe she was hearing this. "You're crazy!" she whispered. "Faith, the Mayor wasn't your father!" If there was one thing Faith hated, it was being called crazy. No matter how true it might be. "Yeah, from what I hear, Ol' Hank hasn't exactly been your father, either." She rubbed her nose. "But I bet if I busted out of here and took a grenade launcher to his house you wouldn't be so friendly." A chill ran down Buffy's back. Faith was just unhinged enough to actually do something like hunting down Buffy's absentee father. "How do you live like this?" Buffy whispered. "I tried to help--" "You're not helping!!" Faith shouted. Her gaze was searing, hot and hurt. "God, you're the most stuck-up, spoiled brat I ever saw! You wrecked my life and now you expect me to fall down and kiss your ass for bringing me back to it?! What do you think I've got to live for now? The Council comin' to get me? Being fed through a tube for the next twenty years? Why the _hell_ couldn't you have left well enough alone?!" She was belting the words, it was a wonder the interns hadn't come running yet. Buffy could hardly speak, and when she did, her voice was small. "I owed you," she fumbled doggedly. "Because you helped me. Because of the dream--" "What dream?" Faith interrupted. That stopped Buffy dead. A feeling of dread creeped over her. Faith was glaring at her, that cool steady gaze. "What dream, B? You sleepwalking now?" Buffy's mouth was dry. "We were in your apartment," she got out. "You gave me what I needed...you said--" She stopped, unable to go on. Silence enveloped the room. Faith's dark eyes stared back. It was her emotionless stare, Buffy recognized it. "I don't know what the hell you're talking about," Faith replied. Buffy stood there in the doorway, feeling much like she had after Faith had admitted killing Finch. Admitted that she didn't care about killing Finch. It was that same sick, world-falling- down feeling. That time Buffy had tried to argue with Faith; thinking on some childish level that if she just argued enough, if she could just make Faith see, if she could somehow force her own remorse into Faith's seemingly empty heart.... But Buffy no longer had the strength to argue with Faith. She knew it wouldn't do any good. And so Buffy did the only thing she could do, the only thing that came to her -- she walked away. In her bed, Faith watched her go with widening eyes. _Damn,_ she thought. _She actually bought it. _ Faith didn't want this. She didn't want Buffy to go. She didn't want to be under Giles and Wesley's thumbs, she didn't want the Scoobies' lame attempts at friendship and she didn't want to live looking over her shoulder for the Council. That had been one perk of joining up with the Mayor. But the Mayor.... Faith felt sick to her stomach thinking about that one. The Mayor had, for all intents and purposes, set her up. Besides, the Mayor was dead. And Buffy had just walked away. She had nothing -- not good, not evil. She had no one left. With as little pain to herself as possible, Faith turned over in her bed and cried. Out in the hall, Buffy walked shakily down the hallway, away from Faith's room. She walked toward the elevator. She hit the button with a numb hand. She rode it to the bottom and walked out of the waiting room, out of the hospital. She felt like she'd been smart-bombed. Willow had been right. Faith was still evil. She hadn't changed a bit. Except now she was awake. Buffy closed her eyes, sick. About the only thing she could think to comfort herself with was that things couldn't possibly get any worse. 

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Across the city, on the outskirts of the really bad side of town, between the rain-slicked neon buildings, a dark figure stumbled. She didn't know where she was. She didn't care. It might as well have been Jupiter for all she felt. It was probably still hell. Hell could be cold. Painfully, heartbreakingly cold. She walked along the strange road, bewildered by the horrid sights and smells. Glowing signs shaped like words blinked on the sides of buildings. Horns blared. Things that looked like cars zipped by at speeds faster than any car she was used to. It was like being trapped in some dreadful Jules Verne novel. She stared forlornly around, lost and cold. To get away from the awful noises she backed into a dark, wet alley. It was dirty and awful, and the aching aloneness followed her faithfully, but at least it was quiet. "Hey, honey!" She turned around and eyed the approaching men listlessly. Any self-respecting woman should be terrified. She was so numb she could feel nothing but sadness at the sardonically- spoken pet name. _He_ used to call her honey. That was not true -- he had called her that once. Only once. Her melancholy inevitably led to rage. She was no longer cold. She was very, very angry. The approaching stalkers were vampires. It was obvious now. Not that it mattered much. Their leader stopped, frowning at the lack of terror in their intended victim. "Hey--" The rain-slicked alleyway dried in an instant. The puddles evaporated like they were being sucked thru a straw. A lone scrub of a bush poking thru the cement turned brown, shriveled and crumbled to dust. The dumbfounded vamp leader, then the rest of his vampire gang, quickly did the same. The being wasn't finished. Heated waves of energy purled through the melting alley like shockwaves, fashioned of equal parts sorrow and rage. The buildings around her crumbled in the force close to that of an atom bomb. She was the center of a hurricane of rage that was radiating out from her, in a radius of thirty, sixty, one hundred feet. It leveled every building around her. It cracked the pavement and cooked the dirt. Edna Mae screamed, purging herself of the bitter grief and hate as quickly as it poured into her. When she was finished, an entire city block of Sunnydale was gone. .

* * *

To be continued..... Excerpts from:  
Clean -- Sneaker Pimps   
Stay -- Shakespears Sister  
The Beginning is the End is the Beginning -- Smashing Pumpkins  
Blown Wide Open -- Big Wreck   
Someone To Die For -- Belly  
All songs copyright their respective owners, I own nothing and know nothing.**


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